


I was brought up in a line (but I seem to walk in circles)

by seemyselfout



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: 2019, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bad Dirty Talk, Blow Jobs, Callum is so precious this is a dedication to him UGH, Callum's POV, Coda, Dry Humping, Early Days, Falling In Love, First Time, Hand Jobs, If You Squint - Freeform, Lots of pained monologue by yours truly, M/M, Making Out, Missing Scene, a tiny bit of D/s, ballum - Freeform, i'm so sorry mum
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-24 09:01:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30069864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seemyselfout/pseuds/seemyselfout
Summary: A timestamp, set in the early days of Ballum getting together, ft Callum falling in love, slowly, slowly, then all at once.
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 27
Kudos: 68





	1. God Knows Where I Would Be If You Hadn't Found Me

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the BEAUTIFUL 'Rainbow' by Dodie. This song reminds me of Callum coming to terms with his sexuality :) 
> 
> Feel free to leave comments and likes, or ideas <3

"I just can't really believe it sometimes that this… this is happening." Callum admits sheepishly.

They’re sitting on the Beale armchair, Ben atop his seated thighs. His chest heaves and can feel his face reddening. Somewhere in the background of his mind, he worries about the state his hair must be in with Ben having just run his fingers through it when they were exchanging heated, warm-breathed kisses moments prior. He pats it with his fingers absent-mindedly, hoping Ben doesn’t sense the drowning feeling he’s got in his throat.  


Ben seems not to take notice, hands still massaging him through the confines of denim. “Yeah well, have you seen me? God’s gift, in’t I?”   
  


“Cor, wouldn’t go that far,” Callum quips, and Ben pulls him back gently by one finger hooked into the collar of his black polo, before leaning in and pecking his lips. A brief touch of lips and the rough of bearded cheeks, then lingering, in which they both breathe audibly from their nose, a sigh, a breath in tandem. Callum smiles into it, and his heart constricts in the way it also does when he is this close to Ben, so sweet that his stomach twists. Callum doesn’t understand how biology has a way of making emotions _hurt_ , but they do, don’t they? Callum feels positively sick most of the time he’s with Ben, but in _nice_ way. How did that ever get to be a thing that happens to him?   
  


Ben pulls back before Callum is quite ready to stop snogging him. He rolls his eyes, mirthfully, and mumbles lowly “but I know how far you _do_ go, Callum Highway,” and _oh.  
_

They’ve been doing this messing around thing for nearly a week. Each and every opportunity for Callum to see Ben, he’s there, and unabashedly usually with his clothes mostly off. Callum can count on a hand the amount of times they’ve done this, kissing, with the tantalising hint of possibly leading to something more.   
  


They’ve just come back from the pub, the summer afternoon air palpable and thick as they walked, hands twitching by their sides after Ben invited them both back to an empty house, the unsaid words of _sex, sex, sex_ not lost in Callum’s mind.   


Now they’re here, now he’s biting lightly on Ben's bottom lip because that’s what he’s learned he likes, and Callum wants to have him attached to himself at all times. Ben lets out a deep _mmm_ , slides in his tongue and deepens the kiss and before long he doesn’t know what he’s saying, he just wants to kiss and kiss and kiss.   


They pull back, minutely, an audible break between their lips, noses touching, and Callum twists in the armchair, a bid to become comfortable with how lovely his insides feel. Callum tries to purse his lips in a miserable attempt not to smile at the electricity that gathers in the tips of his fingers, fizzles at the undersides of his arms, all the way up to his racing heart in licks of excitement.   


“Hm,” Callum hums on a breath, just to say something, to fill this omnipresent, pregnant gap between them that he’s never known how to fill without touching Ben.   


"Hm.” Ben replies, and they laugh. Callum after a moment meets Ben’s eyes bashfully. 

“Feel like the luckiest guy in the world, having you first…" mumbles Ben, as he reaches out and strokes Callum’s neck with the tips of his fingers. Ben’s eyes flicks down, to his lips, then his neck, before leaning in and pressing soft kisses against his neck. Callum ducks into him where it tickles.  
  


“Well, I ain't really used to being with girls either, to be fair; it was always pretty weird to be honest, _fuck_ ,” he cuts off and laughs when Ben bites, and moves one hand down firmly on his inner thigh. At that, Ben flashes a smile, all pointed canines that Callum wants to lick.   
  


But Callum carries on, because he never knows when shutting up might benefit him, especially not when his chest is crawling with butterflies, when his breath is shallow and quick because there's not enough space in there for oxygen as well.   


"When I was with girls, I’d assume they found me good-looking or whatever, and because I was never actually that interested, I didn’t mind much if they didn’t-”  


Ben bumps his head onto Callum’s collar bone and breathes a laugh into his neck.  


"I _really_ don't wanna talk about you with girls right now, babe," and then Ben dives in to bite and lick at his neck and Callum gasps, _fair point_ , and places a shaky hand to right side of the other man's face, thumbs nestling in the pockets of the top of Ben's ear, stroking, as Ben leaves wet, open-mouthed kisses on his cheek, his jaw, the corner of his lips.   


When it’s too much, when Callum is itching for more, involuntarily shifting in his seat for _more_ , he guides Ben by the back of his neck and fits his mouth over Ben's. Ben moans, and then they're snogging again, and Callum can't ever remember a time he spent just kissing somebody. He listens to the sounds of Ben's keening high in his throat, nothing like his speaking voice, made only for him right now, for his body.   
  


Callum is cradling Ben's face with such intensity that he would worry about hurting him, but Ben is giving it right back. It's the tug and pull and push and scratch and bite and Callum has never had it like this. He didn't know- he couldn't have known it would feel this natural, this beautiful, this fucking good. It's ecstasy, it's animalistic, touching everywhere he can reach.   


They dissolve into heat again. Ben spreads his legs on the arm chair atop of him, one leg over the side of the armchair so he can grind himself hard and rough into the front of Callum's trousers. Ben swears, whining, and Callum lets out guttural moans he would be embarrassed to hear himself make in any other context. They begin fucking earnestly, fast quick snaps of clothed hips.   
  


“You can do anything you want to me, I'd let you do it,” Ben gasps into his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut.   
  


Callum lashes flutter at the words. Ben leans forwards and moans into Callums ear on a particularly perfectly timed thrust, and Callum feels his stomach _plunge_ at that. He’s so close to his ear, Callum can feel where Ben hasn’t shaved in a few days, contrasted against the silk of his lips. Ben bites his ear lobe and Callum lets a long moan out, tangling a hand into Ben’s hair where it’s getting long at the top. Ben tilts his head back to go with the movement, always carefully, cleverly pliant in these moments, and blinks beneath his lashes with a wry smile.   
  


He makes him forget everything.   
  


“This is mental…” Callum sighs, almost to himself, hands sliding down to cup Ben’s arse from where he’s flush on top of him, still sadly wrapped in rough denim. He digs his nails in, before he rearranges his grip and squeezes tightly. He looks up briefly, observing what effect that has on Ben, with his head tilted back and mouth agape, before he does it again. He wraps Ben's arse in two palms of his hand and squeezes again, the denim between them torment.   
  


"I'm-" he starts, but cuts off when he feels Ben grind his cock into his own again. "I'm hard - " Callum ends up saying, which is the dumbest, most teenager thing he has ever said, as if Ben can’t _tell_. But surprising to Callum, instead Ben grunts and moves on Callum's dick. Callum takes the hint, sees where this is going, finally, _finally,_ and grinds up into Ben’s front and at the same time cradles Ben’s arse forward, holding him there roughly and moving below him. He moves Ben's arse for him, lifting his hips up and down to meet his own with force that has Ben's eyebrows shoot up for half a second, before Ben wraps his arms around his neck.  
  


They kiss again, Ben's legs as wide as the armchair will allow him to go, and the rhythm is mismatched, and the angle is all wrong on the arm chair. Callum can't get the purchase most of the time, but Callum can't care as the weight of Ben and his hard front is enough. Ben is moaning, quick, gorgeous pants, high in the back of his throat and Callum feels embarrassingly on the edge.  


Thankfully, Ben soon pulls back before Callum has to worry about coming in his pants after a minute of dry humping.   
  


"How about we take this off, hm?" Ben asks, fingering the bottom of Callum’s shirt, toying with the fabric that rides up Callum’s stomach, biting his lip.   
  


Callum nods, lids heavy. "I- I have a scar" Callum remembers just in time to say, just as Ben lifts his polo towards his navel   
  


Ben smirks, running his hands up Callum’s chest. "That's ok, me too." Callum gives a tight-lipped smile. He hadn’t forget the bullet.   
  


They undress each other, looking unabashedly, taking each other in. They’d done this once before, earlier in the week, but nowhere near enough time for Callum to commit the contours of Ben’s body to memory. Callum traces a hand over the light hair on Ben’s chest, before sliding them down and running a hand between the warmth of his legs, cupping his bulge through the denim. He tugs the zip down, hands pawing at his belt.  
  


“I love doing this with you. I love this,” Callum says earnestly, and gives him another squeeze.   
  


“Yeah alright, alright,” Ben says, but despite his protestations, has a flush making its way up his neck.   
  
And Callum does love it, is the thing. He feels like he was born for it, loves how _gay_ it is. A word that used to petrify him now turns him on. For once it's fun, it's playful, it's one second them both laughing at a dodgy position or a cramp, or Callum commits some sort of sexual _faux pas_ that he did not know was a thing, and then… the next second is sighing, it’s gasping, it’s moaning into each other's mouth, not a breath between them. They’ve barely embarked on this, and it’s already wonderful.  
  


“Ben?”   
  


“Yeah?” Ben whispers, and Callums wonders if it's just for something to say, just to postpone the inevitable. They are still nuzzling faces, desperate to be close, desperate.   
  


“You know I do,” Callum whispers, the sides of their noses aligned now, eyes closed, their bare chests rising and falling together with devastating breaths. Callum strokes Ben's bare arm and he feels goosebumps already there. He prays Ben can't feel what look forms on his face then, as he holds him closer.  
  


_I really, really, really like you._ Callum blinks the thought away and kisses him, once. Twice. 

Other words, premature in their blooming, swim at the brim of Callum's lips. _I wonder if I said it, you'd say it back?_  


Ben lifts himself upright onto his knees above Callum, and then darts forwards and slips his tongue dirtily into Callum's mouth. It quickly dissolves into messiness, just open-mouthed panting, licking tongues and teeth, chins wet with missed kisses.   
  


Callum fully shimmies down his jeans and boxers in one when Ben gives him the space. Ben reaches down to hold his cock, and meets Callum’s eyes and smiles at how he’s already wet for him. Callum would be embarrassed, he’s supposed to be the older one yet he’s nearly coming in his jeans from what is little more than a make-out session, but then Ben begins to move his hand, spreading the wetness down Callum’s length and twisting at the head.   
  


Callum's head falls back onto the headrest with a little too much vigour; he’s too tall for the armchair so his head falls backwards behind him much too fast, and they both snigger.   
  


It’s everything Callum wishes he was doing ten years ago, and everything that ten years ago he was fantasising about guiltily. Ben stands up for a moment to kick the clothes which hand around his feet off, before dragging Callum onto the plush sofa where he climbs on top of him.   
  


Callum’s hands immediately seize his arse again, naked now and warm. Callum traces the fingers of his right hand over the line between Ben's arse, digging into the meat there, squeezing.   


"I've seriously got a thing for your arse,' He breathes, watching as Ben keens back into his hands.   
  


"I’ll forgive ya" Ben smirks. “I love that I'm the only man you've done this to,” Ben says, on an upstroke that fucking _debilitates_ Callum, like it means nothing, and maybe it doesn't.  


“Yeah” Callum whines, uselessly. Callum meets Ben's hand on his cock as they stroke in what feels like quick time. 

“I wanna see what your face looks like when your cock is in me, y’know,” Ben breathes, punctuating his words squeezing his dick harder. Callum groans Ben’s name and then Callum is spitting into his own palm, using it to tug Ben's cock at the same speed.   


"You know I want that, Ben," he confesses, earnestly.   
  


They haven’t done that yet, but it’s been the main focal point of their dirty talk since the first time they kissed in the cold park, where Ben detailed to him how he’d let Callum fuck him over the picnic table, for anyone to see, and Callum came hot in Ben's hand at the thought of it.   
  


Callum whines. “You’d really let me fuck you?”   
  


“You joking?" Ben breathes, before licking his palm and taking both their cocks in his hand. Callum stops breathing.  
  


Ben runs his finger over the sensitive tip of Callum’s dick, gathering the come that’s pooling there, and pulls his finger away to suck on it.   
  


Callum sighs. “I wish I had known you earlier. Shit, what a waste, not spending the whole time doing this.” He realises this probably isn’t something to say to someone you’re not even really _dating_ yet, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care. Callum has to say it or he’ll go mad with it. He enjoys this, the physical pleasure he has never really had before. He enjoys giving and taking, and that wasn’t something he could say with Whitney. But he also likes the excitement, the infuriating feeling of checking his phone for texts twice every minute throughout the day, rolling his eyes at himself. He likes the slow confessions, the wait, the heady lust.  
  


In response, Ben just lifts Callum’s hand, and sucks on his index finger, twists his tongue around the digit and moans, and Callum feels like his stomach has fallen out. Ben meets Callum’s eyes, slowly sinking his lips up and down his index, licking up his middle finger and sinking down on both of these again.  
  


“You’re really handsome,” Callum mumbles, honesty exposed and bare, transfixed, and it sounds unsexy but he means it. He didn't even mean to say it, didn't know till it was done, he can barely breathe, and he means it.  


“Shut up,” Ben snorts, and begins to shuffle down Callum’s body, licking a stripe from the base of his penis to the tip, then sticking his tongue out ostensibly and pulling a hair out of his mouth, and pulling a face, making him laugh.  
  


“You are,” he says again, when it goes quiet. “You’re the most beautiful man I know.”   
  


He feels Ben shift under the sincerity, and he knows he can’t take it, doesn’t handle it well and is the master of deflection, but he hopes, somewhere, he knows it was true, in this moment. That Callum really did think he was the most beautiful thing on earth. 

Ben begins to suck the head of his cock, little kitten licks over the slit, before sinking down to meet where his hand is pumping at the shaft. Callum wriggles desperately, hissing through his teeth like he just touched something hot, hands grabbing without purchase at the sofa fabric. 

Callum pants, watching Ben taking his cock further down his throat, hands curling at the tops of Ben's shoulders. Ben speeds up, enveloping his cock in his wet, warm mouth, and Callum sees his cock in Ben's throat and he shakes, pumping into his mouth. 

“Fuck, fuck, Ben, Ben,” Callum pants, “I wanna do this all night with ya.”

The corners of Ben’s closed lips just upturn, and his blue eyes narrow with mirth. He uses his hand to jerk the bottom of his cock, and his other hand comes to play with the flesh of his balls, and he sucks hard and quick at his tip, and Callum lets out the longest, lowest _fuuuuck_ when he eventually comes into Ben's mouth, dick pulsating, face buried in the crook of his arm, legs seizing around Ben's shoulders.

When Ben pulls off, he wipes his mouth on his forearm, lips quirked with mirth.

"What was that about lasting all night?" Ben asks, with a smile.


	2. Oh It Aches (But It Feels Oddly Good To Hurt)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title comes from Dodie's 'She', my one true love. 
> 
> Callum is so fond in this chapter i’m lolling. Also, a lot of smut, whoops??? Ends up, I’m a disgusting heathen. Who knew.

Callum circles his phone in his hands, the warm, hard plastic like a ticking timebomb. 

_Screw it_ , he decides, and opens his chat with Ben. He looks at Ben’s tiny profile picture at the bottom of the screen beside the last message he last viewed. 

Callum knows the picture well. In the summer months when they danced around the flames that was their sexual attraction, he had zoomed into it an embarrassing amount of times, committing every stroke of hair to detail. He thanked whichever God silently for high resolution pictures.

Ben's offline on Facebook, and hasn't seen the gif that Callum had sent two hours prior, which Callum thought was funny and definitely warranted at least a laugh reaction. 

How much longer is he meant to wait? Does Ben not feel the similar urge to have his screen tattooed on his face, in case his misses a text from him? Callum thinks, briefly, that his screen time must have shot up exponentially but won’t check on the off-chance it’s embarrassingly true. 

_It’s his loss if he says no_ , Callum tries to tell himself to very little avail. 

He types before he can regret it. 

13:01 Callum 

_Flat free tonight if u fancy coming round?_

There. Casual. The message sits inoffensively below the gif. 

A millennia passes. 

Callum resolves to wash up his bowl and mug from this morning, mind ever-present on _Ben, Ben, Ben_. 

He rests both hands on the counter, head bowed. _This is daft. You are a grown man, you pay taxes for God’s sake._ He plunges his hands into the washing bowl, sleeves rolled up. _So why can’t you stop thinking about him? Why does it physically stop you in your tracks when you remember how he touched you, only two days ago?_

With soapy hands, he returns to the phone not minutes later.

13:05 Callum

_~~Or if u aint then maybe we could do something this afternoon?~~ _

_~~Maybe begin where we left off ;)~~ _

_~~Would be good to do what we was talking about x~~ _

_They’ve just added all the Rocky films to netflix_

Stupid. He doesn’t even know if Ben likes Rocky. Not everyone can handle Sylvester Styllone’s acting. He watches his message being sent into the ether, and wants to physically pluck it from his screen with his fingers. He considers removing it before Ben has the chance to see. Double messages never look good, do they? Or do they? But deleted double messages are even weirder. No, he’s committed to it now. 

Callum returns to the menial house chores that need doing, especially now he’s invited Ben over. Changes the sheet of his bed, nicking one from the airing cupboard that he doesn’t remember buying. He doesn’t have any spare duvet covers, so he hovers in the doorway considering whether there would be enough time to wash and dry them. He decides against it. He knows Ben hardly ever washes his sheets anyway, because Callum once spilt some beer on the white cover and it was still there, small and inconspicuous but there all the same, the next time he went round. 

He finds himself smiling, and, at the realisation, schools his expression into a frown, scowling at his ability to turn _everything_ into being about Ben. 

He hears his phone chime from where it has been tactfully abandoned on the kitchen side. He leaps to grab it.

13:13 Ben

_We won’t be watching them_

13:15 Callum

_They do get a bit shit after number 3, must admit_

13:24 Ben

_That aint why we wont be watching them_

Callum swallows. He thinks this means sex. Does this mean sex? 

13:24 Callum

_~~Does this mean sex~~ _

_~~Got a better idea then?~~ _

_~~Sex?~~ _

_~~I really want to have sex with you~~ _

_~~Is it because they are bad films or because you want to have sex~~ _

13:32 Callum

_Got a better idea?_

13:57 Ben

_Show u later if u like x_

13:59 Callum

_~~Aha ok x~~ _

_~~But seriously if its sex can you let me know i need to buy~~ _

_Sounds perfect x_

Right, then. 

They both know, is the thing. 

They’re both extremely conscious that tonight is the night, as unspoken as it might be, and Callum is conscious that Ben might be conscious, which makes him self-conscious. 

They end up watching something that Ben chose, they always do. They’re on the sofa, not touching, and Callum can’t _breathe_. He is hyper-aware that they are likely to not make it through this movie the whole way through. Their track record for watching anything without one of their dicks coming out at some point is non-existent.

He does all the right stuff, of course, like laughing along when Ben laugh, and taking sips of his beer to cover up his nervous swallowing (it’s a thing, Google it), but the thing is, he can see Ben is his peripherals. His profile is there, emblazoned with the violet flickering light from the screen, his body radiating magnetic attraction to Callum. He can smell the old cologne on his jacket, he can hear him sip, feel the dip in the sofa, and so it’s impossible to follow any semblance of plot in the film.

He gives up trying to resist. He slowly shuffles his gaze to his left without turning his head. Ben is smiling into the lip of his beer bottle at whatever a character just said or did on screen. “What?” Ben asks, when he notices Callum’s stare.

“You’re all far away, over there,” remarks Callum. He stretched out his left arm across the sofa and, as hoped, Ben folds himself into the side of him. 

“Mm, you smell nice,” Ben says, burying his head in his neck. 

Callum hikes his shoulders up to his ears, laughing. “Tickles.” 

Ben laughs, and plants a kiss there before pulling back. They observe each other, and the movie goes quiet, and Callum traces the flickering movement of Ben’s eyes watching him, lashes long and eyes lidded.

“Come ‘ere,” Callum breathes, and Ben leans forward and captures his lips. They both moan, exhaling into the kiss. He tastes of beer and mint and the day he’s had. Callum caresses his cheeks with his thumbs, hands on either side of his face, holding him there, kissing him languidly now. The tips of their tongues touch, and at that, his stomach positively drops. Callum listens to the sounds of their kissing fill the room. He remembers briefly, fleetingly, the aching pull he had in the pub or in those car journeys together, when Callum was still in the closet, how he would watch his lips when he spoke. He can’t believe they’re now here, doing this, and that they are still the same people. The want never went away, not for him. 

Ben breaks his reverie by sliding his hand down the back of his jeans. Callum gasps, standing up off the sofa, and pulls Ben off with a proffered hand. 

“Bedroom, young man,” Callum orders, and Ben laughs. He ties his hands around Callum’s neck and swings gently off him.

“Don’t start that,” he sniggers. “I’ll have to call you daddy next,” he jokes, and Callum feels the flush that appears on his face and neck. 

“Er, take that look off your face! Got enough daddy issues for one, ain’t I?” he says incredulously and Callum laughs. 

Callum leans down and smacks him on the bum, but it lands more on his hip, and then Ben tries to do it back. Before he can, Callum dodges and he darts into his bedroom, galloping to the other side of the bed as he hears Ben’s carpeted footsteps chasing him.

“Last touch!” Callum shouts, laughing at the annoyed look on Ben’s face from the other side of the room. He takes it so seriously, Callum can’t help but find him cute. 

“Get ‘ere now.” Ben says. “I am not joking, Callum! I will walk out this flat.” Callum creases, falling onto the bed and holding his stomach. 

“Why do you take it so serio-” he starts, but is interrupted by Ben cannonballing onto the bed, making Callum wobble and turn onto his side. He experimentally pokes Callum, trying to assess if he will need to run off if Callum retaliates, but Callum grabs his wrist and pulls him on top of him. 

It’s silence, around them, and Ben’s chest is still rising quickly from chasing him. Callum reaches out an lightly pinches his nipple through his t-shirt. 

"Oi,” Ben mutters, smiling down at him. He grabs both of Callum’s hands and spreads himself over him, their bodies flush. “What’s this?” he asks, bucking his hips forward, feeling where Callum’s hard. “Does last touch make you horny, or summin’?”

Callum shakes his head. “You being on top of me does,” and Ben laughs. 

“Y’know I’d love to ride you.” Ben says, and Callum breathes out ‘ _God’_. 

Ben turns serious for a moment. “You know we don’t have to do that,” he says, earnestly, letting go of his hands and sitting on top of him. 

“I’m -- I’m nervous,” Callum admits, focus resolutely zoned in on where his fingertips are playing with the bottom of Ben’s shirt. 

“Don’t be: it will feel amazing, I promise ya.”

“I know, but like, I’ve only ever had, you know, proper sex with one other person and… well that was a girl. So I don’t know if the mechanics are gonna be the same…”

“The mechanics?! And oi, who’s to say what we’ve done ain’t proper?” Ben says, knocking his knees into Callum’s side softly.

“That- That ain’t what I meant. It means everything to me, Ben, I-”

Ben laughs. “I know, I’m only pulling your leg.” Callum’s heart stutters when he says “We don’t have to do this-”

Callum intervenes “nah, nah, I want to. I do really want to,” 

“Alright, we get it, you really, really want to,” Ben smiles, rolling his eyes. Callum leans up and kisses him, because he can’t help it. The firm, soft press of his lips as resplendent as it was the first time, and each time after. 

“Yeah,” Callum says, and stops himself. It is that simple. He wants to do this. He knows he’s only nervous because he’s scared of fucking this up.

Callum sits up, Ben still perched on his lap, and he wraps him in his arms. They sway a little. Callum’s squeezes his eyes shut. _You are my everything_. 

It goes like this: Ben lies on his back and watches as Callum undresses him, watches as the planes of his body are bathed in the orange light from the lamp. He’s never quiet except in moments like this. Callum undresses himself, trying to slow his shaking hands as they slip on the buttons. Ben strokes his thigh encouragingly at him, then touches him once his dick is freed, as Callum closes his eyes and feels. Then Ben opens himself up, and Callum watches in awe, then Ben lets him try too. 

“Okay, I’m ready,” Ben says, stilling Callum with a gentle hand to his bicep, and squeezing. Callum can see the glistening of Ben’s lips, the blades of hair above his lip and chin. 

Callum smiles. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

So Ben pulls Callum down with a hand around his neck. Callum meets his kiss with a sigh, caressing his fingers into the warmth of Ben’s hair at the base of his neck. Their lips meet, again and again, and Callum loses himself in it all. He is afire at every point their bodies meet, the silk of Ben’s tongue, the firmness of his chest, the familiar unfamiliarity of Ben’s cock as it gains purchase on his belly. He can smell the day on Ben, and tucks his nose into the juncture of his neck and breathes in. He is a man. You can feel it in the build of his shoulders, the size of his hands, the lowness of his grunts. He is his first real kiss, his first real heartbreak, his first... everything. 

And he knows he should slow down with all this, but he can’t. He's falling head first. 

Callum teases his cock between the line of Ben’s arse, bluntly meeting his hole on the strokes as Ben bites his bottom lip in anticipation. He takes his cock in his hand and watches the head slide into Ben, and then he’s enveloped, tight, hot, and Callum nearly doubles over. 

“ _Ben”_ Callum says, meeting his eyes. Ben nods. 

He moves, and he becomes acutely aware he never wants to do anything else in his life.

“That’s amazing," Callum says in awe, and Ben snorts and covers his face with his hands in embarrassment. What Callum really he means _you’re amazing, we’re amazing, what we have takes my breath away, you scare me so much._ He tests the feeling curiously, thrusting in and out at different speeds and different depths, watching Ben's face for the best responses. They move together, and Callum feels so full. 

Callum places his open palms to either side of Ben’s face, and Ben opens his eyes, mouth slightly parted. He runs a thumb and pulls the corner of Ben’s lip up, his small, perfect teeth showing. He’s so beautiful, his chest constricts.

He slots his nose beside Ben’s nose, and looks into his eyes, and there aren’t any jokes or games or teasing. He kisses him, lips covering his, and there's that ache in his chest. For once, he doesn’t care what he looks like, or that what he might be doing isn’t correct. Because it’s beautiful - and how can something this beautiful be wrong? 

This wasn’t something he and Whit ever did, in the embarrassingly scarce times they did it. It was more a close-your-eyes-and-think-of-football type of affair. . But this… this is breath-taking, this is ecstasy, the sound of the bed’s soft creaks from the springs, the heat, the duvet getting caught at his feet, as _he_ stares up at him, so close, unblinking. Together their hips move and their skin meets with sound and their voices get caught in their throats. 

It was never meant to be like this, sex has never, ever been this. But Callum can feel his world shift, literally shifting, and he realises, now, what all the hype is about. He’s in love with the feeling. His heart swells as looks at Ben, and sees him staring up at him, mouth agape, like he’s enjoying Callum too, Callum in his barest, rawest, purest form.

Callum closes his eyes and breathes Ben in, his sharp aftershave and deodorant, but under that his warmth, his scent. His cock must hit a different angle or something because Ben literally cries out, scratching Callum’s back. So he does it again, and again, experimentally, examining with intensity the faces and noises Ben makes, the high keening at the back of his throat. Fuck. Callum bites his jaw lightly, tastes salt there, before burying his head in the crook of his neck. 

“‘M not gonna last,” he admits to Ben finally, as he slows down in rhythm. “You feel too good.”

“You too,” Ben says, running a thumb over Callum’s eyebrows.

He feels an overwhelming lump in his chest. Ben gently pulls his face back to his with two hands, and Callum kisses the soft underside of his wrists. Ben breaks the hold, as he wraps his arms around Callum’s neck and embraces him, and Callum falls to his elbows, and now they embrace each other tightly. There is not a space between their bodies. All this time, and this was what was missing. His heart aches for the Callum of the summer, who never experienced this, never knew just the extent of what he was missing. That one day, he would feel so happy he could burst, and that his body would be made to feel loved, and that he would stay awake just watching someone breathe because the act of sleep is suddenly so lonely without them.

He silently mouths ' _thank you_ ' into the crown of Ben’s head, unheard but hopefully not unfelt.

  
Callum feels the tension which twists his stomach. He thrusts harder, in response to Ben's begging, and feels Ben’s cock, hard under his belly. Callum wraps his arms around Ben's torso, hands meeting at the small of Ben's back as he fucks into him with more control, and Ben curses.

And it doesn’t matter if Ben’s ‘ _oh fuck, oh fuck’_ s aren’t matching Callum’s ‘ _I really like you, I like you so much_ ’. The building feeling of love in Callum’s chest might be a problem, but it’s a problem for the future. 

And Callum feels himself tense up, notices his impending orgasm before he can stop it, and the build up lasts forever, warmth all up his torso, and he keeps thrusting and thrusting into Ben, who is pulling himself off now, and letting out grunts that sound like sobs when Callum hits the spot inside him again.

When Ben takes it as a prompt and moans even louder, Callum comes, he comes, thrusts shallow and void of all rhythm, fist curling into the pillow beside Ben, frantic, whispered breaths between them of _I’m coming, fuck I’m coming._ He keeps his pulsing cock inside him, shallowly thrusting despite the sensitivity, until moments after, Ben comes with an open mouth, brows drawn together, and after, laughing softly, looking like he can’t believe it either. 

‘You’re so loud, I love it,” Callum confesses into his neck, as Ben runs his own hand through his hair, nodding half-heartedly as he tries to catch his breath. That’s something Callum can do now, admit what he likes. He’s realising what he _likes_ , shit he hasn’t done that properly since that first curious late-night porn search in the barracks at night. 

“Mm,” Ben purrs, when Callum rests his cheek against Ben’s, and rubs his nose against Callum’s. 

He tries to pull out, aching to, but Ben wraps his arms around his torso, eyes closed, and says “just a sec. Just stay there for a sec.”

“I’m all sweaty.” 

“Don’t care.” 

And so Callum watches the world’s dust settle around Ben.

Nothing in the world has ever been so precious to him. Everything he does, prompts a twist in his chest that’s so sweet it’s painful. Evokes a feeling, a fleet of hormones that makes his stomach feel weird. Ben smiles weakly at him, and Callum thinks, all at once: 

_I wouldn't let anything happen to you. I will be your soldier. Tell me what to do and I'll do it. I worship you._

Callum swallows the thought of _does it mean I love you if I can’t stop thinking the words_ ?  
  
  



End file.
